


「Smoky Grey Cityscapes; 灰霧江戶」

by yuren



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: And Yes It involves A Bed Again, But He Doesn't Kill Bugs In This Relationship, F/M, Fluff, I Want A Man Like Sakusa, M/M, MSBY Roster Spoilers, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, So I Still Think Kageyama Is The Best Choice :'), Yes It's Another Rainy Day Fic, do i write anything else?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuren/pseuds/yuren
Summary: Sakusa takes care of reader when they’re sick. The love is in the little things.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	「Smoky Grey Cityscapes; 灰霧江戶」

Night had trickled into the morning tide. The air conditioner was no longer running. Sometime between the early morning and now, the comforter had merged with the pale hardwood of your bedroom floor. You were slightly chilled.

The room was barely lit but even in your groggy state, you knew it was already late into the morning. Beyond the rain, you could still see the buildings around you, like clusters of concrete redwoods faintly visible through the endless threads of rainfall.

It was as if the world was cast in a smoky grey twilight. Heaven’s light reached out towards Tokyo’s outstretched hands. It was a subtle reminder for its mortal lover of heaven’s perpetual presence even in rainy day blues. 

For you, it was soothing to know that the rest of the city was awake in the same slight chill and warm haze. 

“Y/n. What are you doing up?”

“Kiyoomi? Good morn–,” you barely croaked out. 

You tried to shift to face the entrance of the room, but Sakusa was already at your side before you could fully turn. He promptly grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed, and leaned it against the headboard along with your own. 

“Y/n, lay back down,” Sakusa instructed. His sturdy hands were on your back, carefully settling you down on the angle he had improvised. “You’re running a light fever.”

Ah, so that’s why he was wearing a surgical mask in your presence, along with the gloves through which you couldn’t feel the warmth of his hands. 

“A fever?” Your throat itched. 

“Yes, and a sore throat too, by the sound of it.” Sakusa’s gaze narrowed as he surveyed your form. Your forehead was matted in sweat, your eyes dewy and dazed, and your figure shivered slightly, in June.

Sakusa reached for the thermos on the nightstand, uncapping the top. “This will help.”

He lifted the cup to your mouth, one hand supporting the back of your head, as he gently tipped the warm liquid into your mouth.

You shot him a surprised glare as he easily held you in place, letting go only when he was sure that the cup was empty. 

“Kiyoomi, this is _umeboshi_ water,” you grimaced as he dabbed your mouth of any residue. “Very infused _umeboshi_ water.”

Sakusa was barely fazed. “Yes, and you’re talking a lot more easily now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but you couldn’t deny that the tightness in your throat had receded for now. 

Sakusa merely returned to capping the thermos cup. Next, to deal with your blanket-less state, he picked up the discarded comforter with purpose.

“What time is it?” You asked, fingers picking at the comforter he was methodically swaddling you in.

“11:32 in the morning.”

Realization hit you.

“Kiyoomi! Your practice game!” You voice was strained, and coughs instantly overwhelmed you in protest.

Sakusa jerked back, unable to stop the instinctive reaction. As he watched your body doubled over, he wished he could reach out and sooth your trembling back. He wished he could reach out and cradle you in his embrace. He wished he could reach out to you to remind you that he was here, for you, always. 

Sakusa opted to once again reach for the thermos. 

“Y/n, stop talking so much,” he said, voice holding a gentler tone as he handed you the refilled cup. “Hinata and Barnes-san will take care of the practice game.”

He walked over to his side of the bed, pulling out the drawer. 

“I’m going to put a mask on you,” he murmured, brows drawn as he focused on his words. “It will be uncomfortable, but you only need to wear it when I’m in the room.” 

As he secured the metallic strip over your nose bridge, you nodded without a word. Sakusa had his ingrained habits and clear-cut preferences, but he tried his best to soften his edges for you as much as he could. 

“Kiyoomi,” you whispered, not wanting to risk worrying him further.

“I know I’m asking for a lot.” You resumed to fiddling with the comforter as you felt his gaze on you. “Can you hold my hand? Just for a bit. You can keep the gloves on.”

Sakusa didn’t reply, standing still by your side as he mulled over your question.

Your heavy eyes were trained on his figure as he moved to pulled off his gloves, rolling them one into the other before discarding them into the bedside waste bin. You watched as he shifted the blankets aside, and sat right by your reclined figure, bodies just barely touching. Sakusa turned his gaze towards you, face unwavering as he reached out and simply placed his hand on yours. 

It was only this once, he told himself. This was his way of showing appreciation for every day that you showed yours. Ever since moving in together, you had accommodated to his unusual habits and fears: you showered as soon as you got home, you caught the fruit flies before he even saw them, and you forfeited half of your weekends to deep clean with him. The things he was grateful for towards you were endless. He supposed that he could, this once, accommodate to your weakness. 

But he still wished that you weren’t a coughing, feverish mess. 

“I’ll wait till you’re asleep,” Sakusa sighed, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Then I’ll go make you rice porridge.”

“Okay.” You slipped your fingers in between his.

As he sat there, on the edge of the bed, face gently haloed by the blue-grey daylight streaming through the silky rain, you couldn’t help but wonder how you were blessed with a guardian angel in this life. Sakusa Kiyoomi was never the most expressively romantic partner. He did not start his days with morning kisses, opting instead to leave bed immediately to prepare the hot lemon water. He did not passionately envelope you in his arms after court victories, choosing instead to dedicate every single spike and save to you from his heart. He did not end his phone calls with an “I love you”, hanging up instead with the echos of a fastidious “don’t get sick”. 

And you understood his affections. He was no sunshine on a bright cloudless day. Rather, Sakusa was the smoky grey twilight on a gloomy summer’s day. He loved through the seams, through the rain, through the haze. He loved carefully, consistently, and constantly. And to be loved by Sakusa was to love him back, earnestly, enduringly, and entirely. For in return, you were safe and loved. 

Sakusa narrowed his eyes as he watched you struggle to keep your own open. He thought it was quite ridiculous really, that you were so determined to stay with him. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he sighed, hand wrapping around yours . 

Sakusa loved you; you were sure of it. And just like the sun on a grey, rainy day, he would be here beside you no matter what. For he was your heaven, and you were a mortal’s hand, forever lifted skyward to unite with heaven’s everlasting light. 

He was your light, and with your angel by your side, your eyes finally fell shut. 

**Bonus:**

“Motoya! Can you believe that he berated me for getting sick?” You huffed, slamming the beer mug down on the table. To your left, Hinata dropped his pork cutlet in surprise. 

“Should I have praised you?” Sakusa asked plainly. “Only idiots catch colds in the summer.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” You shouted at poor Komori, who really just wanted to enjoy this rare dinner that you had managed to drag Sakusa to. The libero already had to deal with all your angry texts about his cousin way too frequently. 

“But Omi-kun, you also caught a cold!” Bokuto pointed out, face stuffed with the third encore of grilled tenderloin. “You ain’t that stupid.”

Sakusa’s hand clenched. It was a good thing you had reserved a private room.

“Thank you, Bokkun!” You sighed exasperated, finally finding resonance from the ace across from you. “And he kept insisting it was because he held my hand while I was sick!”

From his end of the table, Atsumu let out a laugh. 

“Omi-omi, hate to break it to ya,” Atsumu wheezed out in between his laughter. “You don’t catch colds by holdin’ hands.”

Hinata yet again dropped his pork cutlet, and Atsumu barely dodged the air purifying spray bottle that was spiked his way. 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Umeboshi_ (梅干, literally “dried plum”) are salted, pickled plums. They’re salty, mouth-puckeringly sour, and best eaten with rice. Umeboshi soaked in boiled water is a popular home remedy for colds and coughs in Japan. They’re also Sakusa’s favourite food.


End file.
